Think back, Dartmouth, to a time not at all long ago when the indie-rock-electro-pop-jungle-surf duo MGMT was supposed to play a concert in Fuel -- three weeks ago tomorrow, Saturday April 12.
"Three weeks!? That's crazy," you might cry out. "That was really only three weeks ago?"
Three weeks is an eon in Dartmouth relative time. Even though you might not remember it now, there was a point in recent campus history when a good chunk of those of us in residence here were talking almost exclusively about how excited we were to see MGMT.
Sure, the band boasts vaguely cheesy yet catchy melodies and, of course, the badass appeal that only two skinny white dudes from Williamsburg-via-Wesleyan can have.
Friday Night Rock, which booked MGMT to play in Fuel, has had a series of great concerts. One of my favorites was John Vanderslice, which was spectacular. Yet, the buzz surrounding the Vanderslice show in the days leading up to it didn't even come close to the anticipation surrounding the MGMT performance.
Maybe it's due to the general buzz surrounding MGMT right now thanks to a recently signed record deal. But I have another theory: It's because they're a duo.
Since the dawn of time, the notion of two people (especially two men) participating in intellectual camaraderie has captured the hearts and minds of many a generation. Aristotle and Plato, Lewis and Clark, Watson and Crick -- The list goes on. This obsession with dynamic duos is ever-present in the annals of pop music.
The Gershwins, Rodgers and Hammerstein, Johnny Cash and June Carter, Simon and Garfunkel, Sonny and Cher, Captain and Tenille -- legends of music, all of them, and all of them leading up to what was, in my humble opinion, the apex of the evolution of the pop duo: Milli Vanilli.
For those of you who aren't tapped into the collective cultural memories of the 1980s, Milli Vanilli was one of the best selling pop acts of the decade. They went platinum 14 times. They sold out concert venues and sent MTV ratings through the roof. They were jacked and vaguely German, but also vaguely minorities. Their music had massive popular appeal. And here's the kicker: there were two of them.
They also lip-synched and were soon revealed to be a front for a songwriter and his team of studio musicians, but that's neither here nor there. The fact that there were two of them supersedes the need for quality or accurate authorial representation.
Now, I'm not comparing Milli Vanilli to MGMT. Okay, maybe I am. MGMT writes their own songs, but I'm concerned that too many groups get too much credit simply because they are fronted by two dudes.
It's kind of a shocking trend. There was sort of a hiatus after the whole Milli Vanilli fiasco, but by the '90s duos were back in vogue, especially with the growing mainstream appeal of hip-hop: Slick Rick and Doug E. Fresh, The Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff. The trend continues today with acts like Outkast and Gnarls Barkley. Electronic music has provided an outlet for the creative powers of two men, with duos like Daft Punk and Justice making hugely popular electro-pop songs.
These artists (well, most of these artists) have a good deal of artistic merit, and their music should not be ignored. Duos have played Dartmouth before. FNR had the folk pair The Mountain Goats a few years ago and punk-rock duo Japanther last year. Blue Scholars, a Seattle hip-hop twosome, played Collis Common Ground at the end of Winter term to a generally receptive audience.
So maybe duos are just meant to be popular. Maybe I'm just mad that MGMT backed out at the last minute because one of their members "got sick," even though they were seen playing in Burlington the very next night. Am I implying that MGMT just didn't want to play for a bunch of college kids in New Hampshire? That's for you to decide.
But if that was their only reason for avoiding Dartmouth three weeks ago, did they ever miss out, because Dartmouth loves things that come in twos. You need two for a pong team, and two teams for a full game. Double fisting your drinks is pretty popular as well.
Okay, maybe I've stretched this dual nature thing far enough. Whatever the reason for our obsession with musical duality, I don't see it ending soon. That's just human nature I suppose. One is the loneliest number, and three is a crowd. Clearly, it takes two.
Dylan is a staff writer for The Mirror. He's schizophrenic.
